The Sisters Sinister
by ClaryFrayMockingjay
Summary: "Such a lovely flush there is upon your skin. Won't you lift your eyes, Clarissa? I have heard they are more enthralling than an endless well of riches and jewels. I hear you could command an entire army with just a single look from those eyes of yours. Lift them." Clarissa slowly lifted her eyes, out of curiosity more than anything.
1. A Glimpse Into Her World

**The Sisters Sinister.**

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**This is set in a world where girls are expected to choose a husband before their eighteenth birthdays. The most beautiful and gifted of girls are found at the Sisterhood, where they are separated from their families and are taught to be beautiful, honest and pleasing young women. This world is set in the past, in a place that might as well be earth, but I couldn't think of the right era to write about so I made a whole new world up. The Sisters are expected to choose a husband from the various Potentials that visit the Great Chambers (the dwelling place of all those who are part of The Sisterhood). Potentials are basically just rich men above the age of seventeen who need wives; some of the Potentials already have a few wives.**

**This is my storyline; however The Mortal Instruments and all its characters belong to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie).**

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_**A Glimpse into Her World.**_

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Clarissa Fray had always been Mother's favourite, which is why her fellow Sisters hated her so much. Clarissa never minded, she loved Mother and wouldn't trade her for all the love the Sisters could offer. Mother found Clarissa searching for food in the Royal Bakery when she was just a small child; I could have killed you right then and there, Mother had said. But there was something in your big eyes that stopped me, something in your soul that called to mine. Mother always told Clarissa that she would never be a Graced One, never be like the other Sisters, but Clarissa didn't care, not as long as Mother was with her. The Sisterhood was Clarissa's only memory, the only home she remembered, the only life she recalled living. Sometimes, the Sisters would get so jealous of Mother's affection for Clarissa that they would pull out her hair, use their small ruby encrusted daggers to engrave painful cuts into her skin where Mother wouldn't see. Clarissa never complained for fear that they would find worse forms of torture for her to endure. The small cuts were bearable, but who knew what the Sisters would do if Mother punished them? The Sisterhood conspired against Clarissa at every turn, never trusting her around the Potentials, all of whom glanced at Clarissa with matching longing gazes whenever she passed them. She averted her eyes when they looked at her that way, kept her eyes trained on the black and white tiled floor, pretended she didn't notice the greedy gleams in their eyes. The Sisters noticed, though. They noticed and they blamed her. They said none too quietly, that her flame coloured hair and her green eyes were a gift from Lucifer himself, drawing the attention of the helpless men, ridding them of their humanity. The Potentials were not to blame, they said, no, the Potentials are helpless against her witchery; she is the devil in a girl's body, for she is a whore by blood and nature. It didn't matter to them that Clary had never been within two feet of a boy, let alone a man; all that mattered was that they looked at her the way they should have been looking at the Sisters and that infuriated them. The Sisters made Clarissa an outcast, they punished the servants that talked to her, the same servants who had helped raise her when she was first brought to the Great Chambers, the same servants whom had sung her to sleep and fed her from their bosoms. No one spoke to her anymore, no one asked her how her day had been, no one helped her clean the wounds that the Sisters had inflicted on her pale, milky skin. So, when Miss Isabelle arrived to tutor her, Clarissa was overjoyed. She loved Mother, she really did, but only having Mother to talk to had become tiresome. Miss Isabelle learned of Clarissa's scars and ever-appearing wounds and Clarissa cried and begged her not to leave. She threw herself at Miss Isabelle's feet and asked her not to tell mother, begged her to forget it all. Clarissa was so afraid that Miss Isabelle would be disgusted by her and call her a whore that she refused to tell her why such scars disfigured her soft skin. If they call me a whore, Clarissa thought glumly, then surely I _am_ a whore, for the Sisters are always right; they are the Graced Ones. One day, Miss Isabelle took Clarissa's pale hands into her own darker ones. She searched Clarissa's green eyes with her own mahogany ones. Clarissa had memorised Miss Isabelle's face, the sharp apex of her chin, the bottom lip that was fuller than the top lip, the thick and dark lashes that ringed her sharp, deep eyes, the high forehead, the dark, winged brows. Clarissa envied Miss Isabelle, but was also happy that her friend and tutor were so beautiful. With looks like that, Clarissa thought, she will get far in life, very far indeed.

"Clarissa," Miss Isabelle began, "Why must you be so stubborn, won't you tell me who did such terrible things to you?" Miss Isabelle's dark eyes were pleading.

"You know that I cannot, Miss Isabelle. If I tell you whom, then I shall be required to tell you why, and I cannot bear to have you hate me." Clarissa said, sadly.

Miss Isabelle tsked and wiped the tears from the corners of Clarissa's eyes.

"Clarissa. I could never hate you, not with your heart of gold, and your soul of songs unsung. I am at the end of my patience, I had hoped you would come and tell me, but you still haven't. You really have twisted my arm, Clarissa. If you do not tell me I will ask Mother for permanent leave and I will not return to continue our teachings."

Clarissa was sure she would have fallen if she hadn't been seated on her usual chair. "You wouldn't." She breathed, disbelieving.

"I cannot stay here while you are in pain and not know how to help you. It is unfair of you to ask me to do so." Miss Isabelle replied curtly. "IT WOULD BE UNFAIR FOR YOU TO LEAVE OVER SUCH A PETTY MATTER!" Clarissa felt suddenly ill. "You will not raise your voice at me, Clarissa, I am your tutor and as such, you shall treat me with respect and obedience." Miss Isabelle chided softly. Clarissa gripped the sides of the upholstered oak chair she was sat upon. She couldn't lose her only friend. She took a deep breath and began to speak. "It...It's the Sisters. I make too many mistakes. I get in their way. It's my fault." Clarissa whispered in a panic, hoping they wouldn't be overheard by any servants or worse yet, by any of the Sisters. Miss Isabelle's eyes narrowed until they were long, thin slits of midnight black. "The Sisters do this to you? Does Mother Lilith know about this?" she asked coldly. "No, and you mustn't tell her, or anyone else. This is my secret to keep, please, Miss Isabelle, say you won't tell anyone" Clarissa begged in a fit of frenzied fear. "Please..." she whispered softly. Miss Isabelle took a long moment to consider Clarissa's request, Clarissa prayed silently, hoping Miss Isabelle would agree. "Fine," Miss Isabelle said. "But you must tell me everything. Start from the beginning."

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"At first, when I was littler, The Sisters just used to ignore me. They wouldn't talk to me, or look at me, they wouldn't do anything to acknowledge me, unless it was to ask me to do something for them, like passing a love note to a Potential or tidying their bedchambers. Then, as I grew to the age of twelve, they would pull out clumps of my hair, telling me it was a beacon for the Devil, they would score cuts through my skin with dress pins telling me I was too pale and needed a little colour. They told me they would tell everyone I was an impure whore if I told Mother what they did to me. Then, they stopped for a while, everything was alright again, but one night some weeks after my fourteenth birthday, the Potential that Sister Eliza had been courting broke into my bedchambers at night and threw himself on top of me. I screamed and screamed, luckily, Mother and her handmaid, Kaelie had been near, they heard the commotion and the Potential was no longer a Potential anymore, he was deemed an Outcast and Sister Eliza was in bits, her Potential had been eliminated from the courting sessions and she never saw him again. She blamed me, she called me a whore and she told me that I threw myself upon him because I was jealous of her, she turned all of the Sisters against me one by one and together they began to torture me, though it was a lot worse this time. The Sisters made sure to keep away from me when their Potentials were with them, they told their Potentials that I was a whore, and it wasn't very long before everyone hated me. The first harassment attempt sparked the interest of many other Potentials and so many tried to break into my bedchambers that Mother had to station a guard outside my bedchambers at night. Now, the only times the Sisters will talk to me is so that they can make me sleep in their beds at night while they meet Potentials and when they are taunting me while using their Valour Blades to cut into my skin." Somewhere during her confession, Clarissa's tears had begun to fall like little diamonds. Miss Isabelle was also crying, her face a picture of sympathy and love. "Clarissa, my dear, sweet Clarissa. What these girls have done to you is cruel and you haven't done anything to deserve it. You needn't keep this a secret; you could oust them to Mother Lilith. I would help you. You cannot keep living like this." Miss Isabelle pleaded. Clarissa just wiped her tears away and put on a false smile, "No, there is nothing I can do about my nature. This is a survivable punishment for what I am." Clarissa said.

"What you are?" Miss Isabelle asked.

Clarissa's faux smile faltered. "I am a whore. A vessel for the Devil himself to do his bidding through."

Miss Isabelle gasped, her hand flew to her mouth, "Clarissa, do not let me hear you say things like that again. You are not a whore, and you are certainly not a part of the Devil. When was the last time you touched a man? When was the last time you let a man touch you?" She asked, knowing the answer.

"Never, miss." Clarissa answered, looking at the floor glumly, how could Miss Isabelle think her not a whore when everyone else told her she was?

Miss Isabelle sighed, "Clarissa, look at me." She did, Miss Isabelle' eyes were sad and caring. "You are not a whore, the Sisters are the ones who leave their bedchambers to please a different Potential every night."

Clarissa gasped, Miss Isabelle gave her a sharp look, "Am I telling an untruth?" She asked Clarissa. Clarissa shook her head, no. "Then why do you react, so?" Miss Isabelle asked.

"You mustn't let them hear you, Miss Isabelle. They are the girls born of compassion, love, humility, sympathy, empathy and beauty. They are the best our world has to offer." Clarissa recited the most well known verse of 'Ye Book of Olde'

Miss Isabelle tsked again. "No, Clarissa. You are the best our world has to offer. They are impersonators; they are deceivers of the worst kind." Clarissa said nothing to that, but she felt the weight in her heart lift a little, and she flung her arms around Miss Isabelle's neck. "You shall forever be my closest companion, Miss Isabelle" Clarissa informed her tutor.

"And you shall forever be in my heart." Miss Isabelle said with a stifled cry of joy and sadness.

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That was a whole two summers ago. Clarissa and Miss Isabelle had remained as close as ever, still to this day. Miss Isabelle taught Clarissa everything she needed to know from needlework to playing the piano, from cooking and baking to singing and dancing with the grace of a swan. Miss Isabelle even taught Clarissa to paint and sketch, she taught her to use mathematics and to read, write and also to recognise stars and constellation. Clarissa had grown into a woman, she now had small curves and her legs were slender instead of thin and knobbly, as they had been when she was younger. Her eyes weren't so round anymore, but were just as big as they had always been. Her chest had filled out a little and her thick auburn hair grew in soft, loose curls all the way down to the tops of her thighs. These changes only made the Sisters hate for her grow. She knew because the pain they inflicted grew along with it. And by her seventeenth year, Clarissa Fairchild was ready to die. Mother Lilith had chosen a suitor for Clarissa, with the help of Eliza, who was now married to the cruel son of Master Blackthorne. Clarissa's suitor was not a Potential, he was a stable boy of Master Blackthorne's son. It was Master Blackthorne who had suggested the match, and Clarissa knew exactly why. Young Master Blackthorne had tried to take advantage of Clarissa on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, but failed. Now, he was going to make sure he had easy access to her whenever he wanted, he had told her so. Miss Isabelle knew something was wrong, but Clarissa didn't want her to act out of anger, so she said nothing of Young Master Blackthorne's motives to her tutor. No, this, this she must face alone, no matter how much it terrified her.

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**Review please? I love hearing what you think. I look forward to hearing from you.**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


	2. The Voice Within The Walls Of Solitude

**The Sisters Sinister.**

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**Thank you so much for ****your reviews, follows and favourites, you have made me so, so happy. If you have any questions, feel free to ask away.**

**Thank you to RebelYouth, the very first reviewer of this story and to Shannie83, Zippy Was Here, WinxClubLover1999, Sabrina.H, Guest, TwilightMortal, MollyTamale, TMI Lover, TheRubyRed, FluffyFlufLover, SoWhatIfImAnAddict and LemonOfWeirdness! Your reviews made me smile to no end! **

**I'd also like to thank the following for favouriting: HowMyCatsAnnoyMe, Phobbers, RebelYouth, SoWhatIfImAnAddict, TIDnerd, TheRubyRed, Zippy Was Here, LemonOfWeirdness and WinxClubLover1999.**

**The Mortal Instruments and all its characters belong to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie), the story line, however, is mine.**

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_**The Voice Within The Walls Of Solitude.**_

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The Great Chamber was an exquisite building; with its spiralling staircases, grand archways and black and white diamond shaped tiles that were so heavy and thick each tile could have been taken out of the side of a mountain-face. The five-storey layout was built centuries ago, and so it held an air of traditional elegance and untold riches. As a young girl, Clarissa would often find peace in The Royal Gardens revelling in the scent of roses, orchids, hyacinths and thyme. Clarissa would sit amidst the flowers and admire the tall, pointed spires of The Great Chamber, she would trace the outline of the enormous, thick mahogany doors and memorise every little flaw on the heavy, brass knockers and door handles at the front entrance. Clarissa would walk around the entirety of the building and run her fingers along the sand-coloured brickwork as she went. She would stare into the mahogany framed windows and imagine herself flying through the stars that they so perfectly reflected at night-time. The inside was just as beautiful as the outside, with high ceilings that were pointed all over. The paintings were works of great talent; they depicted an image of a time before time, when rotund cherubs with little feathery wings as white as falling snow would fly around naked, bow and arrows in their chubby fingers. In these paintings the sky was a perfect shade of crystal blue, the sun seemed to shine from every point in the sky, and bathed everything in its warm glow. The ground was made of snowy clouds, tinged with a rose colour at the bottom and grapevines grew nearly everywhere. Clarissa supposed these images were supposed to be happy and inviting, though whenever Clarissa saw them, she felt a terrible mixture of foreboding and longing in her gut, though she knew not why. The rooms were all as decadent as the other, though one room quickly became a favourite of Clarissa's. The Omniscient Library had always been intrigued Clarissa, even before she could read. At those times, she would just wander around and admire the thousands of leather-bound books that were stacked as high as the ceiling. The bookcases were all full and still there seemed to be a lack of space. Books spilled out of every nook and cranny. Back when Clarissa couldn't read, she would just pick up any book that took her interest and unlatch the bronze lock set upon it and just sit there for hours tracing the inked letters, enjoying the feel of the thick parchments beneath her little fingers and finding a beautiful comfort in the smell of parchment and friendly dust that blanketed every space in The Omniscient Library. Young Clarissa had loved following the path of semi-precious stones that was inlaid into the shiny, marble floor, she had loved having to climb up the huge ladder to be able to reach the highest books, she had loved sitting on the leather chair opposite the hearth while she attempted to understand the letters in books, cuddled up in front of the fireplace. Her most favourite place to read, though, was on the upholstered window sill of the window that over looked the wondrous Hall of Chance. The tiles of The Hall of Chance formed together to make an image of a huge crescent moon, a smaller sun and white clouds; like a giant mosaic. You wouldn't be able to tell unless you were looking at it from above. Clarissa loved watching as The Sisters danced with The Potentials, their full skirts swirling around them elegantly. During Courting Sessions, there was an endless supply of drinks and sugared fruits and buttered meats and rolls being served at The Hall of Chance. Only half of the rose shaped candles were lit, lending the room a soft, romantic atmosphere. The candles burned along the walls, in brass brackets, large candelabras stood proudly upon the Head Table where Mother sat with The Dignitaries and oversaw The Courting Sessions. The Hall of Chance was decorated with rose petals, gauzy gossamer and pale silks that had been teased together so that they made strange shell-like shapes at the tops of the walls. It was during The Courting Sessions, when The Sisterhood had forbidden her from entering the Hall of Chance, that Clarissa would sit upon what she now thought of as The First Step on the Stairway to Heaven and watch the proceedings, hidden amongst the rich, thick floor-length curtains. She would always feel a twinge of sadness and envy watching everyone dancing and enjoying themselves, but her mood would instantly lift when she spotted Miss Isabelle talking to that dark haired man that she had told Clarissa about. The man was called Mr Lewis, and Miss Isabelle was completely enamoured by him. He's not the most handsome, Miss Isabelle had said with a clouded expression in her eyes, But he has an honest face and the sweetest, most lovely heart, Clarissa. I hope for you to meet him someday, I am certain you would like him. Clarissa assured Miss Isabelle that she would indeed like him for if he could make Miss Isabelle this happy then he must certainly be a wonderful person.

It was here that Clarissa sat at this very moment, though this time under very different circumstances. This time, she was allowed to dance and sing and enjoy herself, because this time, she would be with her husband-to-be, today, she would be meeting Mr Lockwood for the very first time in her life. And in a fortnight, she would be marrying him. Mr Lockwood was said to be quite handsome. He was the same age as Clarissa, he was a lot taller though, Miss Isabelle had informed her. Miss Isabelle had also told Clarissa that he had rather small eyes. No matter though, Miss Isabelle had said, his eyes are a dull grey anyway, Clarissa, it isn't as unfortunate for him to have small eyes as you might think. Clarissa smiled weakly and told Miss Isabelle that she didn't want to talk about her future husband anymore, when Miss Isabelle asked her why, Clarissa just told her she was nervous, but the reality was that talk of her wedding and of Mr Lockwood just reminded her of the way Young Master Blackthorne had held her in his vise-like grip and whispered hotly in her ear, promising to finish what he had started. Now, though, Clarissa was faced with the inevitable. She was meeting Mr Lockwood, she would dance with him and she would pretend to be happy, all the while she would know her true fate was getting closer by the minute.

Miss Isabelle had helped Clarissa get dressed today, as she would be making her debut appearance. Clarissa wore an ivory, floor length dress that hung loosely from her shoulders and had a plunging neckline and a high slit through which her right leg could be seen. Her dress was made of silk, upon her shoulders were golden leaves from which a gauzy cloak flowed, the cloak was longer than her dress and trailed along the floor after her when she walked. Her curly, auburn hair had been laced with small white flowers and though most of it was let loose, two parts at the front had been sectioned off on each side of her face and braided around her head with flowers, creating a halo-like effect. Upon her feet Clarissa wore little white sandals that laced all the up her calves. Miss Isabelle squealed in delight when she saw the complete look. You look like an angel straight from the Heavens, Clarissa; she had said. Clarissa didn't think so, she thought she looked a little silly, like an imposter. Her green eyes looked even greener and her hair looked like early autumn leaves, but she didn't voice her opinions for fear of offending Miss Isabelle.

"What, pray tell, are you doing here, Clarissa?" She heard Miss Isabelle ask irritably from behind her.

Clarissa turned around hastily, "I was just watching everyone dance."

"Why watch when you can so easily join them?"

"I was going to join them, but I thought I'd wait for you."

"That was sweet but unnecessary; Kaelie and Joan shall escort you."

"I am aware, but I was rather hoping you would also be at my side. I do not wish to do this without you, Miss Isabelle." Clarissa pleaded.

"Well then, how can I say no?" Miss Isabelle smiled kindly. "Give me a spin before we leave." Clarissa twirled and smiled, all the while the sense of unease grew in her gut. "You look marvellous. Far better than any of The Sisters." Miss Isabelle praised. Clarissa smiled shyly, "If I look marvellous then you must look delightful, Miss Isabelle." Clarissa said, sincerely, for it was true. Miss Isabelle wore a long dress of a midnight material, the skirt was full and she held a matching midnight fan in her hand. The dress was strewn with small pearls, and it looked like she wore the night sky. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, revealing her soft, long neck and envious décolletage. Miss Isabelle had strategically left some glossy chocolate hair loose to frame her face.

"Are you prepared to leave?" Miss Isabelle asked.

"To be able to answer that question fully, one must have the power of retrospect to aid them." Clarissa replied.

"I take it I am to assume you are ready, then, if you will not say so in words?" Miss Isabelle said, an amused smile gracing her lips.

"You have assumed as correctly as I expected you to, Miss Isabelle." Clarissa smiled sadly.

Clarissa turned to face the window once more, she saw The Sisterhood and The Potentials from past Courting Sessions, as she had expected. She was about to turn away from the window when she spotted a new face. He looked young, but older than her. He had an unrealistically handsome face, high cheekbones, chiselled jaw line, high forehead, straight brow bone, full, pleasing lips all framed by a glorious mess of curls of spun gold. Clarissa felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart stopped, a new feeling unfurled in her heart like a flower in the Spring-time. Hope. She was feeling hope. How could it be? She didn't even know the man. Clarissa couldn't see the man's eyes from this distance, but she found herself wishing she could, hoping she would.

Clarissa turned away from the window, "Let us make our way." She announced.

Clarissa entered The Hall of Chance with Kaelie at her right side and Joan at her left. Miss Isabelle walked ahead of her and announced her arrival. Clarissa flushed with shame and embarrassment as she felt the glares of both hate and lust fixed upon her from every corner of The Hall. She kept her eyes trained on the tiles, willing the moisture in her eyes not to form into tears and fall. The whole Hall went silent at her arrival. So when she heard the voice, loud and clear as ice, soft as honey, yet low as sin, she tensed all over.

"_Such a lovely flush there is upon your skin. Won't you lift your eyes, Clarissa? I have heard they are more enthralling than an endless well of riches and jewels. I hear you could command an entire army with just a single look from those eyes of yours. Lift them."_ Clarissa slowly lifted her eyes, out of curiosity more than anything. She looked around, searched the faces around her, but it seemed that no one else heard the beautiful voice.

"_You are truly as beautiful as I have heard, if not, then even more so. I look forward to speaking with you, Clarissa." _The Voice spoke again. Still, the faces stayed still, no one reacted. Have I truly gone insane? She wondered to herself. Suddenly, the room broke into deafening applause. Clarissa craned her neck to see what everyone was looking at. Mother had arrived.

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**I would honestly, truly, without a doubt love to hear what you have to say.**

**Please review.**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


	3. Dressed In Finery And Gold

**The Sisters Sinister.**

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**Here is another chapter for my beautiful followers.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, favourite and read the first two chapters, I hope you enjoy this one!**

**The Mortal Instruments and all its characters belong to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie).**

**Not-so-interesting-fact: I write every chapter in this story the day I publish it and in "Garamound" font, because it inspires me and gets me in the mood to write.**

**What is your favourite font?**

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_**Dressed in Finery and Gold.**_

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The deafening noise finally lowered to silence, and Mother came fully into view. She stood upon the stage at the back of the room, looking down fondly at all her guests. "Welcome, to yet another Courting Session. May The Goddess bless us with prosperous alliances and grant us lifelong matrimony." She greeted, her voice travelling powerfully through the room, loud and clear as crystal. Mother was a beautiful woman; her hair reached her ankles, straight, thick and black as a raven's wing. Her skin was a soft and creamy white, devoid of any warmth or colour, like a white rose in the Winter-time's very first fells of snow. Mother was a slight woman, thin boned and, to Clarissa, she strangely resembled a stick. Clarissa thought Mother always looked beautiful, but today she looked particularly magnificent, she wore a long crimson dress that contrasted beautifully with her white skin, like spilled blood upon chalk. As usual, she wore no shoes upon her feet. Upon her head she wore a majestic crown of blood rubies and wrought iron feathers and her thin lips were stained a deep blue-red that made her narrow eyes glitter like a clear Winter-night sky. Mother's hair was let loose, and it swayed around her head and body like a cocoon of black silk. A collective "Lifelong matrimony" was murmured by everyone in the room and Mother's voice rang out again, sharp as an arrow, "Today is a special day. As I am sure many of you already know, today we are to celebrate a new marriage. Let us pray that this alliance lasts forevermore and brings joy to the couple's hearts. I welcome the happy couple to the stage." Mother smiled, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, it never did, not since the untimely death of her beloved. Suddenly, Clarissa was being moved forward by gentle hands. Clarissa looked to her left and caught a glimpse of Miss Isabelle's lovely face before Kaelie tugged her away. Clarissa kept her eyes trained on the black and white tiles on the floor, "I am glad for you," She heard Kaelie say softly.

"Oh? And why might that be?" Clarissa asked voice soft as moth-wings.

"You are finally rid of The Sisters. They did awful things to you and I am sorry that I couldn't do anything to stop them I wish you hadn't come here, maybe then your life wouldn't have been so difficult." Kaelie replied quietly. Clarissa turned to the girl next to her in shock, trying to see if there was anything in her face that would hint at her true feelings, but Kaelie's stoic pale blue eyes were as sincere as sincere could be.

"Thank you, though there is no need for you to be sorry for things outside of your control." Clarissa said.

"You didn't deserve any of this. The Sisters were just afraid of your beauty," Kaelie whispered hurriedly, "We are at the steps, you must join Mother. But remember, you can change it all. You are more powerful than you think." And with that, Kaelie turned away and joined the rest of the crowd, her grey skirts swirling like mist behind her, her blonde head disappearing in the masses of faces.

Clarissa ascended the decadent stairs to the stage in a daze, thinking about Kaelie's words, her determined yet hopeful expression. A strange sense of pride came over her, but what could she have done to invoke such faith from the Handmaiden? The beautifully carved cherry-wood banister felt smooth and cool beneath her fingers, and the higher she rose, the more she found she needed to hold on to those very banisters. All too soon she was at Mothers side, looking down upon The Potentials and The Sisterhood, smiling warmly at them, though they did nothing of the sort back. Mother brought her thin arms around Clarissa in an embrace, and Clarissa welcomed the smell of roses that enveloped her. "Clarissa," Mother whispered for only her to hear, "I wish you the best of luck, and remember, though you'll be far from home, you'll always be in the hearts of every single one of us." Clarissa doubted this very much, but nodded into Mothers shoulder anyway.

Clarissa pulled away and watched as Mr Lockwood ascended the stairs right after her. Mr Lockwood was a man of seventeen; he had a scratchy growth of stubble and a head of thick silvery-black hair. Clarissa thought it a bit odd that he should already have silver hair. Mr Lockwood had cunning grey eyes and a pointed chin, he looked a little like the tricksters from her fairytales. Mr Lockwood smiled at Clarissa, baring white teeth, and bowed deeply. Clarissa curtseyed and Mother just touched the top of his head, signalling that it was alright for him to stand now. Mr Lockwood wore a long grey tunic with silver breastplates and a silver ring around his head and matching silver bands at the tops of his arms.

"And now, let the couple-to-be have their first dance." Mother smiled encouragingly and moved to allow Mr Lockwood to take Clarissa's hand. His hand was warm and a lot bigger than Clarissa's, his fingers stubby and tufts of hair sprouted out from his knuckles. Mr Lockwood led Clarissa down the steps and to the centre of The Hall of Chance. He kept Clarissa at a comfortable distance from himself when they danced, his hands on her slender hips and hers on his narrow shoulders. They twirled and stepped in time with the cheerful tune that the Royal Musicians played, Clarissa's hair spun out behind her like a burning phoenix come from the embers. Mr Lockwood seemed friendly enough, but Clarissa somehow doubted that friendliness would make for a good marriage, not that that was the worst of her problems. She repressed a shudder as the image of Young Master Verlac invaded her mind again.

A terribly beautiful voice cut through her thoughts, _"Clarissa, come find me." _Was all it said. Clarissa found that once The Voice silenced, she could no longer remember how it had sounded, or what it had said exactly. She only knew that she was dancing with the wrong person. She had to find the right person. Yes that was right, the right person.

Once the song had ended, Clarissa and Mr Lockwood parted on polite terms. Clarissa walked through the crowd of dancing and twirling people, looking for someone, she wasn't sure who. She felt a strong hand clamp down on her shoulder and she spun around. There was the man she had seen from the window. He was even more beautiful up close; he was taller than her, her forehead barely reaching the top of his broad, well muscled shoulders. He had a head of spun-gold hair that curled at the ends and high cheekbones complimented by a high forehead. His eyes were endless pools of caramel-gold ringed with thick lashes that any sane woman would be envious of and his skin was a beautiful shade of brown-gold that Clarissa had never seen before. His lips were full and Clarissa found herself wondering if they were as velvet soft as they looked. He wore a long white tunic that complimented his skin tone with gold breastplates, a gold belt and gold bands around his wrists and the tops of his muscular arms. In the lobe of his right ear was a dagger-shaped piece of gold. The strange man bowed deeply and Clarissa curtseyed as gracefully as she could.

"Clarissa, 'tis a great honour." He said. His voice was deep, Clarissa noted, and intriguingly beautiful. Clarissa thought that perhaps she recognised it, but from where she did not know.

"I was hoping I'd get a chance to speak with you." Clarissa replied. "It is nice to meet you."

"And I you, Clarissa." Clarissa loved the sound of her name on his lips, she loved the way his tongue held to the 's' sound slightly, as if he didn't want to let go of her name, as if he wanted to say it forever. The man had an air of confidence around him, she could see it in the way he had bowed, she could see it in the way he spoke, and she could see it in his lazy half-smile.

"Would you like to dance?" The man asked her. Clarissa's heart jumped a little.

"Of course, Mr..." She trailed off, realising he hadn't told her his name.

"Herondale. Call me Herondale." He said laconically.

Clarissa nodded and tested the name on her lips, "Herondale. An unusual name, I must admit, but still very pretty."

The man, Herondale, smiled a genuine smile then. "I'm glad you like it." He said. Clarissa wondered why it should be so important that she should like his name, but said nothing on the matter. The music started up again, though this time it was slower, deeper, and each note seemed to linger before blowing into nothingness, like a whisper in a storm. Herondale pulled Clarissa against his body; he was all hard muscle to her soft curves, she could feel his body heat as it migled with her own. He smelled of the outdoors and of something rich and dark and intrguing. He placed his large hands on her hips, his long, slender fingers meeting on the small of her back. Clarissa wrapped her small hands around his broad shoulders. Clarissa could feel his heart beating against her chest as they spun and danced to the beautiful music. She noticed, for the first time, the black markings in Herondale's lean, muscular arms. She let one of her fingers trail along the markings, following the lines and curlicues and she felt Herondale suck in a breath. Startled, she looked up and saw him looking down at her with an indecipherable look in his gaze.

"You truly are a thing of divine beauty." He said, though Clarissa wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself. She felt her face flush, and Herondale smirked in response.

"Your blush is very intriguing, Clarissa." He said, and somehow his voice had changed, become lower and different altogether, almost like there was a whispered secret within his words.

Clarissa averted her eyes, not knowing how to reply, but Herondale placed an elegant finger beneath her chin and turned her gaze upwards, back to his. He let his hand drift into her hair, and he picked at the flowers in her locks.

"You shouldn't hide your eyes, Clarissa. They're too beautiful to hide."

"You shouldn't say such things to a married woman, Herondale." Clarissa replied.

"You are not yet tied by marriage, Clarissa. A lot of things could happen in the time between now and your wedding." Herondale replied, with a smile like sin.

Clarissa didn't know if that was a threat or a promise or nothing at all, all she did know is that it made her stomach jump and her heart race. She felt herself flush again, and this time, Herondale was the one to avert his eyes. She watched his throat as he swallowed whatever he had been about to say.

"I may not be tied by marriage yet, but that doesn't mean I am not tied by responsibilities and-"

Herondale cut her off, "Expectations?" He asked.

"That's not what I was going to say." Clarissa replied.

"It's what you were thinking, though. It's what everyone is thinking. Why would someone of your beauty and intelligence agree to wed a stable boy? I'm sure there are better offers, someone older perhaps? Someone with more of a direction in life?"

"Someone older?" Clarissa echoed, "Why is age important?"

"How old is your fiancé? Seventeen? You need a man, Clarissa, not a boy." Herondale pulled her closer towards him, though neither Clarissa nor Herondale seemed to notice.

"And how old are you?" Clarissa asked.

"Two and twenty."

"So, not a man then?"

Herondale looked martyred, "Of course I am a man."

Clarissa smiled inwardly but stayed quiet.

"What if I want a boy and not a man?" Clarissa asked finally.

"Then fine, but you don't. So why did you agree to the alliance, Clarissa?" Herondale asked.

Clarissa thought about it and saw that he was right. She did it because it was expected of her. She did it because it was what Mother wanted. Herondale watched her silently, waiting for her to say something.

"I must take my leave now." Clarissa said, and then she turned on her heel and left in a flurry of autumn leaves, snow and skirts.

* * *

**Penny for your thoughts? I'd love to know your thoughts!**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


	4. A Warning From The Grave

**The Sisters Sinister. **

* * *

**The Mortal Instruments series and all its characters belong solely to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie). Thank you so much for all of your reviews, favourites and follows! Please review!**

**What has your favourite part of the story been so far?**

**What or who would you like to see more of?**

* * *

**_A Warning from the Grave._**

* * *

The Royal Gardens was in full bloom, the scent of roses, hyacinths, dahlias and mint hung heavily in the warm air. Clarissa's skirts swished around her ankles as she walked through the Royal Gardens and in the direction of the Whispering Lake. The flowers soon gave way to lush green trees and shrubbery and then, just as she knew it would, a thin serpentine cobblestone path mad itself known in the clearing. Clarissa followed the path, keeping an ear out for the faint rumbling of water that she had grown so accustomed to. The sound of lazy water became louder and louder until she caught the first glimpse of the Whispering Lake, hidden by the low hanging branches of the ancient trees. Clarissa ducked beneath the branches and walked alongside the Whispering Lake, letting the water lap out to touch her toes. The Whispering Lake was so clear you could see all that lurked within, from the clusters of tadpoles to the tiny schools of fish that glittered beneath the surface of the rippling water. Light from the sun sparkled off the water and created beautiful reflections all across the clearing. Clarissa found a boulder just shy of the water and sat down daintily, right hand fisted beneath her chin. Her wedding day was in exactly six days, and she had no idea how to stop it. Clarissa had already decided to do all that was in her power to stop this wedding, but how she did not yet know. Her thoughts had been too consumed by last night's dance and she had found herself to be distracted by Herondale. She had heard the whisperings of The Sisters and almost ignored them, for their gossiping was nothing out of the ordinary. Her attention had been caught, though, by the secretive mention of Herondale, it turns out he would be staying The Great Chambers. So close that Clarissa need only turn the right corner at the right time to bump into him, but Clarissa thought she ought not to bump into him. He made her feel...something. Something new, something Clarissa didn't know if she was ready to face. Clarissa had been wandering around all day, trying her best to stay out of everyone's way, but The Sisters seemed to be extra vicious today. They glared and ranted and screamed at her over the littlest of things, "You're walking in front of me, whore, get out of my way!" or "I must say little Clarissa, you look even more horrific today than you did last night, if that is even possible." Clarissa didn't know what had set The Sisters off until she bumped into Kaelie. The blonde girl dragged her into the Royal Kitchens and told her what The Sisters had been saying about her.

* * *

_"They are furious at you, Clarissa." Kaelie sighed sympathetically._

_"Furious? Aren't they always?" Clarissa retorted._

_"It is worse this time. They all saw you dancing with Herondale and then they saw you run off."_

_"So? It was just one dance" Clarissa replied, exasperated and confused._

_"Exactly, it was just one dance. You were the only woman he danced with, after you left he just wandered around and turned down offer after offer. They think he was waiting for your return, searching for you."_

_Clarissa felt her face flush and she lowered her lashes, hoping Kaelie hadn't caught the joy and hope in her eyes. Her heart beat furiously in her chest and her stomach seemed to be restless, unable to remain still._

_"W-why, why would he be looking for me?" Clarissa asked._

_Kaelie looked at her and sighed in a way that made Clarissa feel like she was frustrated at her, "You are strangely dense, Clarissa." And with that, Kaelie flashed a devilish grin and left Clarissa to ponder her words._

* * *

Clarissa looked at the shimmering lake, still thinking over Kaelie's words. What could she possibly mean? Clarissa finally gave up trying to figure Kaelie's words out, she stretched as she stood up and walked away from The Whispering Lake and made her way back towards The Great Chambers. She was just passing the rose bushes when she heard someone whistling a low, jovial tune. Clarissa couldn't whistle, and found the whole concept fascinating. She followed the tuneful sound, stepping through the tall blades of grass and wildflowers. Suddenly, the whistling ceased and Clarissa frowned disappointedly. What a shame, she thought. Clarissa continued the rest of her walk in silence, watching her sandal clad feet as she stepped carefully between the flowers. Her attention was fixed on not damaging any of the beautiful wildflowers so she didn't see the person standing with his back turned to her until she came in contact with his hard back. She stumbled backward and closed her eyes, anticipating the fall and knowing she couldn't do anything about it, she just had to let herself fall. But she didn't fall. She was encased in warmth and stability and was pulled roughly into something hard and soft all at once. Someone had caught her, someone with great agility and strength presumably male, and that someone had his strong arms wrapped around the flare of her hips and his jaw brushed her profile. She felt his breath stir the soft hairs by her ear and hastily pulled away once she was steady. She didn't need to look at him to know who it was, but she did anyway. His hair was slightly more dishevelled than it had been at the dance, and she felt a strong urge to run her fingers through it and comb it out. His face was as beautiful as she remembered and he loomed over her, a small smile gracing his full lips.

"Clarissa, if you wanted me to hold you all you had to do was ask." He said by way of greeting, voice indulgently low.

Clarissa met his swirling gold gaze. "I must admit I was a little disorientated by my almost-fall, but I know now what caused it." Clarissa replied.

"Oh, and what's that? My worldly beauty?"

"No, I merely tripped on your ego, which by the by is far too big for reason."

"If you'd like, I could show you other assets of mine that are far too big to reason." Herondale smiled wickedly, and Clarissa felt an all too familiar flush touching at her skin. Herondale smiled wider, taking an enjoyment in her discomfort.

"You seem to blush considerably around me, Clarissa. Should I be concerned?" Herondale asked; a teasing lilt to his deep voice.

"The only thing you should be concerned about is getting out of my way, so as to let me get back to The Great Chambers and forget this sorry collision ever happened." Clarissa said, her words were harsh but her face was open and kind. Herondale ignored her and moved closer, Clarissa could feel the warmth of his body mingling with her own.

"You have the bite of a cobra but the face of an angel, Clarissa. I have been unable to forget you, to ignore the pull I feel towards you. Is it this way for everyone who meets you?" Herondale asked softly.

Clarissa looked away, partly out of embarrassment but mostly out of sadness. "You are an anomaly. None else would ever admit to feeling anything other than hatred towards me, aside from Mother and Miss Isabelle of course." Clarissa answered; voice barely above a whisper. Around her, the musical sound of the birds was fading, and the light of day was darkening into the first touches of night. The sky was a canvas of hushed reds, dusted pinks and muted oranges, the sun was a huge disk of blood-orange, dominating the sky as if it were its very own stage. The wind died down and whispered along the swaying grass and through Clarissa's hair, tickling her face with it. Herondale stepped forward so fast that Clarissa didn't even have time to react. He lifted an elegant, golden hand to her face and gently moved her auburn hair out of her face. Clarissa's vision was filled with gold: gold hair, gold skin, swirling gold eyes. Her ears were filled with the rapid thud-thud of Herondale's heart and his deep, un-even breathing. All she could smell was rich earth, the distinct smell of man and danger, so much danger.

Clarissa stayed as still as she could.

Herondale opened his mouth- _What do I do? _Clarissa fretted internally- _Is he going to kiss me? He can't kiss me. He won't._ To Clarissa's relief, and dismay, Herondale didn't kiss her. Instead, he asked, "Why would anyone hate you?"

"Because," Clarissa began, "I am not a Sister, I am not Graced. I cannot see into the future or bring a flower into bloom in my palms. I am just ordinary." She confessed.

"Not a Sister?" Herondale echoed, looking shocked, "But how can that be?"

"I wasn't born into the Sisterhood. I was found alone in The Royal Bakery. No one knows who my birth-parents were, I became Mother's. I belong to Mother, she owns me." Clarissa said, there was a hint of longing and sadness in her voice, but it was carried away in the wind before Clarissa could identify it. Only Herondale recognised it, and he was the only one to hear Clarissa's side of the story. Not even Miss Isabelle had heard this much; Clarissa's arrival and stay at The Great Chambers became a thing of great mystery to outsiders and Mother sought to keep it that way.

Herondale searched Clarissa's face. "You are beautiful, Clarissa" Clarissa was about to cut him off, to tell him to stop, but he must've known because he said, "I am not being polite or gentlemanly, I am merely curious. The Sisterhood is for the most beautiful, most honest, most valuable. How can you not be a part of The Sisterhood? You are beautiful, you are honest, you are-"

"A whore." Clarissa interrupted flatly.

Herondale looked as if he'd been slapped, his expression a mixture of confusion, surprise and shock. "What?" He breathed. "I don't believe you." He said, voice stronger than it was a few moments ago.

"Well, you ought to. Ask anyone, ask The Potentials, they know just what I am, they're torn between hating me and-and..." Clarissa trailed off, remembering all those times a Potential had tried to force her into their Bedchambers, tried to force themselves onto her. Miss Isabelle told her she wasn't a whore, but what if being a whore was her role, all she had to give to the world?

"And what, Clarissa? What have they done to you?" Herondale gripped both of her arms and forced her to look at him. Clarissa didn't know what she expected to see in Herondale's face, but anger and hatred wasn't her guess. The anger and hatred in his face didn't seem to be directed at her, but at something else.

"Nothing. I have spoken out of line, forgive me." Clarissa said hurriedly.

Herondale wasn't convinced, "Tell me, Clarissa, or I will request and audience with Lilith." He pressed, "I advise you not doubt me." He added.

Clarissa felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes. How could I be so stupid, she thought, as to say so much to a stranger? If Mother finds out I have been talking to Herondale alone; and above all about The Sisterhood, she'll never forgive me.

"Some of them...you have to understand, it wasn't that many of them and it wasn't their fault. The Sisters told me, they made me see the truth of it all; I am a whore by nature and by blood. I attract men and I steal their souls and then give them to Lucifer to feed his emptiness. I am a slave of The Devil, that's why my hair is red. They can't help it, it's my fault-" Clarissa was cut off by Herondale.

"Stop this insane nonsense and tell me what The Potentials did to you, Clarissa." He said furiously but softly.

"They...some of them forced themselves upon me, or tried to anyway. Mother stationed a guard outside my Bedchambers so the guard removed any perpetrators that tried to get to me." Clarissa said in a rush, hoping he wouldn't hear her.

Herondale's grip on her arms tightened and any hope she'd had that he'd misheard were crushed.

"They tried to _rape _you?" He asked. Clarissa said nothing. "How can they get away with this? Why aren't you better protected? Do they not know how important you-" Herondale stopped himself short. "You cannot stay here, Clarissa." He looked pained when he said the next part, and avoided her eyes. "How many? How many men have you had?"

Clarissa felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. So, she thought, He is disgusted by me. By what I am. He refuses to even look at me.

"None." She said softly, hating that there was nothing she could do to reverse her fate.

"None?" Herondale snapped his gaze to hers, looking even more shocked than he had when she'd told him she was a whore. "Clarissa if you have had no men then how can you call yourself a whore? How can The Sisters call you a whore?" Confusion laced Herondale's voice.

"I already told you, I am a vessel of The Devil." Clarissa replied, irritably.

"Is this what The Sisters have been telling you?" Herondale asked, furious once again.

"They told me the truth." Clarissa replied indignantly. Who was this man to tell her The Sisterhood were wrong? To imply Mother was wrong?

"They have brainwashed you. They've stripped you of your own sense of self." Herondale marvelled to himself.

"What are you talking about?" Clarissa demanded.

"You cannot stay here, Clarissa." Herondale repeated somberly.

* * *

**Why is Herondale being so cryptic? What's with all the questions? What do you think of The Sisterhood, The Potentials and of Mother? Please review!**

**_Yours Faithfully,_**

**_ClaryFrayMockingjay._**

**_X_**


	5. Struck Down Before It Began

**The Sisters Sinister.**

* * *

**The Mortal Instruments series and all its characters belong solely to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie). Thank you so much for all of your reviews, favourites and follows! Please review!**

**I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! Happy early New Years!**

**There is an almost rape scene in this chapter, I've put it in italics so if you don't want to read it then avoid the italics. I hated writing it but it had to be done, I hope it's okay.**

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_**Struck Down Before it Began.**_

* * *

Mother visited Clarissa in her bedchambers that night, right before Clarissa went to bed. This room had been Clarissa's since the day she got here, it was the only home she remembered, and to her it was always beautiful. The ceilings were high and decorated with the familiar motifs of cherubs and grapevines and a glorious blue, light clouded sky. The room was lit by a single low hanging, tear-drop crystal chandelier, the crystals reflected haphazard rays of light all across the room, making it look like a small sun had recently exploded. Despite all that, her bedchambers seemed to be perpetually lit in a romantic, soft light, even in full daylight. She supposed that was because of the sheer net that draped her window and because of the huge oak tree right outside her window that barely let any natural sunlight through. Clarissa's room was furnished with an oversized, four-poster oak bed with sheer drapery that she closed around herself every night and a matching oak wardrobe that was far too big for one person, a chest of drawers and two oak bedside table. Her bedroom didn't lead to a powder room like The Sisters' bedchambers did. Clarissa had just slipped into her pale rose coloured night-dress and was just about to blow out the candle on the sill of her window when Mother entered. She didn't knock, but then again, she didn't need to. Mother was always welcome. "Clarissa: my darling child." She cooed from her position at the foot of my bed.

"Mother, how wonderful it is to see you." Clarissa curtseyed low and only straightened up when she felt a tap at the top of her head and then each of her shoulders, right to left and heard Mother say- voice low and queenly-"Rise, dear child."

Clarissa watched Mother curiously as she glided around her bedchambers, moving here and there effortlessly and gracefully as the rays of the Sun upon a glassy ocean. Tonight, Mother wore a jewel blue silk dress that showcased her body well. Mother had a body made to be envied, thin-boned and dancer-like, it was rumoured she tested all of The Potential Males in her bedchambers before they were allowed to court The Sisters. Most of The Sisters hated her for these reasons, not only was she beautiful but she had her choice of The Potentials before they themselves did. Clarissa had never chosen to believe this until late one night she herself caught a Potential leaving her bedchambers without his shirt, wearing a dazed expression.

"No doubt you are wondering why I have graced you with my presence this beautiful eve'?" Mother finally spoke.

Clarissa nodded. "I am here to see you personally before I leave." Mother said in her regal voice.

"Leave?" Clarissa asked.

"I have been called away on urgent business. A neighbouring land senses some danger within their community; they want me to help them overcome rebels. I'll be gone for the next fortnight." Mother sighed and Clarissa looked away from her dark eyes as she took in what Mother was saying. She wouldn't be here for her wedding, which meant...she really could escape her fate. With the absence of Mother's she could find a way to stop her pre-arranged marriage. Mother mistook Clarissa's silence for sadness. "Dearest child; there is nothing to be done about it. It is such a shame really; I wanted your wedding to be so special, too. Of course," She mused, "It couldn't have been as magnificent as one of The Sisters' weddings." Clarissa looked up at that, Mother was studying her, her dark eyes emotion-less. "Because-" She continued, "You are, less...", she thought about her next choice of word carefully until finally, "desirable than The Sisters. You lack the... well, I'm sorry dear but you lack the beauty." She didn't sound sorry at all. This is always how it always was with Mother and I, Clarissa reminded herself: She loves me enough to tell me the truth, no matter how much I didn't want to hear it. She loves me enough not to delude me with false hopes and dreams. Clarissa respected and loved her for it, no matter how much it hurt sometimes. Clarissa smiled at her and nodded her auburn head, "I am not worthy of a wedding as spectacular as The Sisters'. I appreciate all you have done for me, Mother."

Mother tilted her head and the right side of her mouth quirked upwards, making her look more than a little like the evil, murderous females from Clarissa's old fairytale books. "Do you, Clarissa?" She asked; her voice suddenly cold and accusing. The room seemed to grow chillier. Mother was angry, but for what reason Clarissa had no idea. "You see Clarissa, I am not entirely happy with you. There is another, less favourable reason as to why I am visiting you. I assume you remember the young man you danced with the night before this eve'?" Mother asked. She didn't wait for Clarissa's answer, which Clarissa was glad for, because of course Clarissa remembered him. He was all she had been able to think about. "Well, there has been word that you whored yourself out to him. I hope this is not true, Clarissa. Herondale is an important man, very important indeed. He is absolutely not at the disposal of neither you nor The Sisters. Herondale could make me very happy, Clarissa. Don't you want me to be happy?" Mother's voice had risen several octaves and her normally tame hair had become a riot of black inky locks around her thin, pale face.

"I understand Mother, and I assure you, you have nothing to worry about-" Clarissa began, but Mother cut her off with a shriek. "Of course I have nothing to worry about; after all, you are below the standards of a man like Herondale...look at you. Whatever you think Herondale feels for you, whatever happened between you two; was nothing. Nothing but a mistake on his part and mutiny on yours. You will do well to forget him, forget his name, forget he exists." Mother's callous dark eyes glared murderously at Clarissa. "I am warning you Clarissa. Do not tempt Herondale with your vile Hellish charms." And with that simple utterance, a spark was set aflame in Clarissa's heart. Mother left her bedchambers shortly afterwards, leaving Clarissa heartbroken and feeling vengeful. All these years, Clarissa thought, I thought she loved me, but how could she when she too thinks me nothing but a dirty whore? I am not a whore, Miss Isabelle says so and so does Herondale. Herondale, she thought and her heart cracked a little more, How could I have been so unutterably stupid...of course! Of course, of course, of course he is in love with Mother. Of course he feels nothing for me. Of course he had to be the one man to make me feel human. The one man that could make me want to feel, to love was the man I could never have.

I have been treated like a slave for far too long. The sooner I can leave this wretched place the better. Soon, Clarissa thought, I will be nothing but a distant memory, a myth. Clarissa blew out her candle, wiped away her tears and got into her bed, seeking comfort in her down pillows and mattress. She closed her eyes and felt sleep claim her, a thought was just at the back of her mind, she grasped at it but sleep was already over-coming her. The thought slipped away from her, like a retreating ocean wave. Soon, she was fast asleep.

* * *

_Oh no. No, no, no...help, someone please, help me. I can't breathe. Anyone, please-please..._

_The back of Clarissa's head hit the wall behind her, but she barely felt the pain. All she could focus on was the fear that burned in her lungs. _

_Young Master Verlac shoved at her again, his hands groping her roughly, painfully. His dark hair was a mess, his eyes wild and crazed as they roamed over her form, making her shudder with repulsion. Clarissa wanted to be sick, she wanted to stab Verlac and then stab herself._

_This could not be happening, Clarissa thought, Please make it stop. She felt the tears fall unbidden, she tried to keep them in, really she did; but it was no use. A choked sob escaped her throat and Verlac closed his left hand tighter around it. "Be quiet, stupid little whore or do I have to hurt you?"_

_Aren't you already? Clarissa wanted to scream. Verlac used his free hand to pull up the skirt of his tunic, he shoved Clarissa down onto her knees and looked down at her, his black, soulless eyes glinting evilly in the candle light of her bedchambers. "Take me into your mouth, whore. I know you've done it before." He growled out. Done it before? Clarissa wanted to scream at him that she'd never even been this close to a man before, but thought better of it. Verlac gripped the back of her neck and pulled the hair there, Clarissa cried out in pain. He slapped her hard across the cheek with his right hand, "You only open your mouth when I want it on me, understand wench?" He barked out._

_Clarissa closed her eyes and tried in vain to pull out of his grip. When she opened them again, Verlac was leaning down so that his face was inches away from hers. His black eyes danced with sick amusement and excitement, his breath came out in harsh pants. "I know you want me; I can see it in your beautiful eyes." He whispered. _

_Clarissa looked into those black, hideous eyes and reached out towards Verlac's face, he closed his eyes in anticipation and hummed low in his throat, then Clarissa raked her nails across his cheek so hard that he yelled out in pain and shoved her away from him. Clarissa stumbled away from him, towards the door. Verlac caught her from behind and slammed her onto the floor. Clarissa stood back up and slapped him once, twice, but then he was on top of her and she was screaming as he reached down and lifted the hem of her dress. The door swung open and light poured into the room and Clarissa knew Mother and Kaelie had come to save her, just like they had in reality, just like they had in her other flashbacks._

* * *

But when she woke up, her room wasn't empty, the door was open and a pair of swirling golden eyes hovered above her. Someone was shaking her frantically. She sat up abruptly and found herself encased in the steady warmth of someone's arms. No, not just someone's, Herondale's. Clarissa waited for her breathing to return to normal before she pulled away from Herondale's embrace. Herondale was sat on her bed, he wore a simple grey tunic and his right hand cupped her cheek. His hair looked messy from sleep and made Clarissa's body tingle from the roots of her hair all the way down to her toes. She could feel the heat from his body; they were close enough that when he breathed in, she could feel the expansion of his chest. Herondale's face looked paler, and a little drawn. His eyes were full of concern, and something else. Something Clarissa didn't recognise. Herondale's left hand came up to cup Clarissa's left cheek. Clarissa couldn't help but admire his beauty; he looked softer in the pale light of the moon.

"Save you from what, Clarissa? What happened?" He asked softly. His voice was a welcome, comforting sound.

Clarissa blushed; of course she had to make a fool of herself in front of Mothers lover. No doubt they would laugh about her afterwards, while they were in bed-Clarissa shook her head free of thoughts of Mother wrapped in Herondale's arms, the same arms that she had felt so protected in, the same arms that had made her feel strong for the first time in her life. "Nothing. Nothing happened and nothing will." Clarissa said, carefully controlling the emotions in her voice. She didn't want Herondale to know how deeply he had hurt her. Clarissa wrapped her small hands around Herondale's strong wrists and pulled his hands away from her face. Slowly, she shuffled away from him, until her back hit the headboard of her oak bed. It struck her suddenly that she should probably be afraid, after all the last time a man had been in her bedchambers uninvited, he had tried to force himself on her, but Clarissa didn't feel any fear clogging up her lungs. No, she felt betrayed and determined. Determined to start afresh in a place where she could finally be more than just a whore, more than just the girl who was too ugly to become a Sister.

Clarissa thought she saw a look of hurt flash within the swirling depths of Herondale's, but she ignored it.

"I heard you screaming for help, Clarissa. What happened? What are they doing to you?" He asked in an urgent voice.

Clarissa didn't answer his question, instead she asked a question of her own, "How did you get in here? James-" She began, but was cut off by Herondale's low, delectable voice. "Your nightguard is lying unconscious outside. Don't worry, I've sent for help for him."

"I think you should leave." Clarissa said in an equally low voice, refusing to look into Herondale's eyes. She would forget him. It would be easy, after all, she had only known him for a few days and whatever she thought she felt for him was clearly a stupid mistake.

Herondale sighed; it was a beautiful sound, a deep, male sound. It was a deceiving sound. It made it sound like he actually cared.

"You want me to leave?" He asked, voice rough.

Clarissa nodded, afraid that if she spoke her voice would betray her.

"Clarissa-" Herondale began.

"Please, please just leave. You've done enough; do you want me to get into more trouble?" She asked quietly. She knew she was being unfair, she had had her own hand in this whole sorry mess, too, but it was easier to be angry at Herondale than it was to admit that Mother had never loved her.

"What do you mean? What trouble?" Herondale asked, sounding concerned. Clarissa almost scoffed, now she was truly deluding herself. "Please. Just go." She said again, this time Herondale obeyed. Clarissa heard him close the door softly behind him. She sighed and finally, her body relaxed again. His nearness had caused her body to erupt in heat and sparks.

* * *

**What do you think of Mother now? I have so many plans for this story I think I might faint. Please review! Also, do you think I should change the title of this story? If so, please leave some suggestions!**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


	6. A Tragedy Of Love And Loss

**The Sisters Sinister.**

* * *

**The Mortal Instruments series and all its characters belong solely to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie). Thank you so much for all of your reviews, favourites and follows! Please review! HAPPY JANUARY! And happy belated birthday to WinxClubLover1999!**

**I know some of y'all have a helluva lot of questions and I wish I could answer you, but I don't want to ruin anything for you. All I can say is, read carefully my friends. What it seems all is not. Hella Yoda. If any of you are _dying- _and I mean choking and on your deathbeds and the only thing that can save you is answers- then you can P.M. me and I'll give you answers. Albeit more than a little reluctantly.**

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_**A Tragedy of Love and Loss.**_

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Clarissa awoke the next day feeling strangely light-hearted. She lay on her bed and traced the beautiful, familiar patterns on the ceiling with her eyes. Today- Clarissa thought- today Mother is leaving and I finally have the chance I have been waiting for. I can escape. Clarissa hesitated- but- she thought, leaving would mean never seeing Mother or The Sisters again. What would I do after I left? How would I live? And with those thoughts, Clarissa's mood took a sharp blow. Clarissa was determined, though, to find a way. She knew she could do this; she just needed a good, solid plan.

Clarissa pulled on her cotton white morning tunic and gathered her soaps and towels before she made her way to the female servants' quarters. The Head-Cook- Julia- was one of Clarissa's favourite people at The Great Chambers. She nursed Clarissa at infancy and though Clarissa had seen less and less of her as she grew up, she still knew that if there was anyone who she truly, truly loved here, it was Julia. Once when she was five years old, Clarissa called Julia "Mama", a phrase she had learned from one of the children's books she had found at The Omniscient Library. Julian had cried and when Clarissa had asked her what was wrong, Julia had just smiled and patted her red curls affectionately. Clarissa had called her "Mama" on and off for the next year until Mother had found out and slapped her hard across the cheek. "How dare you call the cook 'Mama'? I am the only Mother you will ever have." She'd said angrily, this was one of the few times Mother had ever been truly angry at Clarissa. Julia cried out and put her thick arms around Clarissa to protect her from another blow and Mother struck her instead. Clarissa wailed and wailed as one of Mother's men dragged her from the room. The last thing Clarissa saw before the huge oak doors closed was the most horrible thing she could recall ever seeing, Mother stood tall over a cowering Julia with a mad look in her eyes and a white hot fire poker in her hand, raised high above her head. No one had let Clarissa see Julia for six whole days. On her sixth night away from Julia, Clarissa- sick with guilt and worry- snuck out of her bedchambers and made her way into the servants' quarters. There she found Julia putting away the dough for tomorrow's baked goods, Clarissa ran to her and apologised. When Julia turned to her, Clarissa cried. Julia's right eye had been damaged beyond repair; it was swollen and sealed shut, the skin red and blue and purple. Julia would never open her right eye again. Clarissa was sure Julia would hate her, but Julia wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek. "You mustn't come here anymore, dear. It would be a danger to us both. The only time you can come to these quarters is to bathe and if someone specifically sends you. Okay?" Julia asked softly.

Clarissa nodded, her red curls bouncing, enormous green eyes wide with fear and shining with tears, "Okay, Julia."

"Good girl." Julia replied, sadness curling in her voice.

Clarissa still used the bath at the female servants' quarters but she could never go and see Julia while Mother was home. Today Clarissa would finally speak to Julia again after eight years.

* * *

The bathtub was small, but served its purpose well enough. Clarissa bathed and pulled her morning tunic back on before going to see Julia. A long-forgotten feeling bubbled up in Clarissa's chest threatening to choke her, a feeling of happiness and excitement and _home. _Clarissa always felt at home with Julia. After searching the usual places Clarissa could once be sure to find Julia, she had approached a thin, wiry servant that she vaguely recognised and asked her where Julia was. The servant paled and shook her head mutely. "What is it?" Clarissa asked worriedly.

"Julia-Julie- is..." the servant began. The servant wrung her hands and looked anywhere but Clarissa's eyes. Clarissa placed her hands over the servant's hands, effectively stilling them. "Please," She whispered. "I have to know." Finally the servant met Clarissa's gaze with her own steel-blue one and said, "I'm sorry. Julie passed three years ago."

"'Passed?' As in...gone?" Clarissa's voice was barely above a whisper, but the servant nodded.

Clarissa nodded numbly, everything ached; her heart, her head. She felt sick and angry and sad all at once. "Thank you." She whispered and, to her utter surprise, the servant- whom she didn't even know the name of- hugged her to her chest.

"She loved you," the servant said, wiping tears from Clarissa's face that she hadn't even known had fallen. "...She loved you like you were her family."

* * *

Clarissa took her time getting dressed; she chose a jewel green dress that brought out her eyes and complimented,- rather than muted- her auburn hair. Mother had always hated this dress, she had said it made Clarissa look wider and it was unflattering; it was for this reason that Clarissa never wore this dress, similarly, it was for this same reason that Clarissa finally dared going out in public wearing it. Clarissa loved it, the way it hugged the delicate curves of her chest and her narrow waist; she loved the way the skirt swept the floor behind her and the way light sparked off the scattered sequins on the bodice and hem of the skirt. Most of all, Clarissa loved the feel of the dress against her skin, like silken water through her fingers. The grey-blue eyed servant, Nancy, took Clarissa to the female servants' bedchambers- a long room with rows of cots- and pulled out a box from underneath a loose floorboard. The box contained letters that Julia had written for Clarissa. Letters that Clarissa had not yet read. Truth be told, Clarissa was scared; terrified of what these letters may contain. She stuffed the ornate box at the back of her oak wardrobe, behind all of her dresses.

Clarissa piled her hair in an elegant bun on top of her head, revealing her elegant neck. She didn't wear any jewellery apart from the silver diamond anklet that Nancy had given to her on behalf of Julia. The anklet was delicate and fit perfectly around her ankle. The clasp had been inscribed with the initials "J.E.M", Clarissa guessed the 'J' was for Julia, but as for the rest of it, she had no clue.

* * *

Clarissa spent the morning in The Royal Garden, picking white flowers for mourning. It was late, three years late, but she wanted to remember Julia's life. She knew the servant's would be too busy, so she would be doing this alone. Clarissa heard soft footfall behind her and then a deep, beautiful voice spoke out; "You look particularly ravishing today, Clarissa." Clarissa could hear the smile in his voice. He walked around her until he was standing right in front of her. "Thank you." Clarissa replied distractedly.

"No blush? What has the world come to?" Herondale asked, sounding genuinely shocked. Of course Clarissa knew why she hadn't blushed. She knew now that Herondale was Mother's. She knew that he was just being friendly. To Clarissa it made sense that she had fallen for him in so short a length of time, she wasn't accustomed to men being anything but hostile and demanding with her until Herondale had come along and made her smile and blush and laugh. Clarissa didn't regret asking him to leave last night, if they had been caught the Mother would have punished them both, no matter how innocent the situation had been. No- Clarissa mentally amended- Mother would have punished _me_.

"I guess I have grown immune to your charm, Herondale." She teased, though her mind was still on Julia. Though some part of her heart ached, Clarissa was glad for Herondale, he had never showed any special interest in her, after all; he was always being friendly. Right now, Clarissa wanted friends more than anything.

"Is there something the matter, Clarissa? What is the use of all these flowers?" Herondale asked.

"I am mourning." Clarissa replied with a small smile.

"Mourning?" Herondale asked.

"Yes, mourning. The death of someone I loved. An old friend." Clarissa replied, eyes trained on the flowers in her hands. Herondale remained silent for some time and Clarissa was hyper-aware of his gaze on her face and his nearness. Finally, he sighed a decisive sigh and asked, "Would you walk with me Clarissa?"

Clarissa looked at Herondale properly for the first time since he'd found her, he wore a black tunic with steel-silver arm bands and black sandals. His hair had grown a little longer since the first time she had seen him, insignificantly so. Clarissa scorned herself for noticing. The stubble scattered charmingly across his jaw was also new. His eyes were still a beautiful swirling golden colour, though. Clarissa considered him a moment before nodding her head yes.

He started off in the direction of The Whispering Lake and Clarissa followed. When she finally caught up with him he was whistling a familiar tune. He stopped whistling and glanced at her and then away, "You should know, your hair looks nice like that. It shows off your neck. You have a beautiful neck." He said, not looking at her.

Clarissa mumbled an embarrassed 'Thank you' and they fell into a steady silence.

* * *

The somewhat unlikely pair walked along the edge of The Whispering Lake, "This person you're mourning. Were they a good person?" Herondale asked Clarissa as her laughter died down. They had been sharing jokes. Clarissa's smile faltered, then changed into a sad, loving quirk of her lips. Herondale watched intently as she took her bottom lip between her pearly teeth.

"Yes, they were. One of the best." Clarissa replied shyly.

"Will you tell me about them?" Herondale asked.

Clarissa thought for a while before telling Herondale how wonderful and loving Julia had been. She told stories of her childhood, of Julia's magnificent cooking, of her uncanny ability to tell the most imaginative tales. She even told Herondale about the box Nancy had given her, and of the diamond anklet. When Clarissa leaned down to lift a little of her skirt to show him, Herondale gulped and clenched his jaw and fists, as if he were stopping himself from doing something with great force, Clarissa didn't know what was wrong with him, but when she put a hand on his arm to ask if he was okay he smiled awkwardly and shrugged her off. Clarissa avoided any mention of Mother. When she was finished, the Sun was at its highest point in the sky. It was midday, she had spent the whole morning and more with Herondale. Clarissa discreetly wiped away her tears and turned to Herondale, "We should get back. The Sisters will scream bloody murder when they find out I've been hogging you all to myself." Clarissa joked. Herondale reached forward and wiped Clarissa's face with his thumb, catching the tears she had tried to hide. His face looked open and vulnerable. "I am not here for The Sisters, Clarissa." He said softly. Clarissa looked out at The Whispering Lake and nodded, "I know." and Mother's face flared up in her mind, disturbing the peace. Clarissa pulled Herondale's hand away from her face and smiled, "Walk me back?" She asked. He blinked, as if pulling himself out of a daze, and nodded. "But first, I think I know what to do with those flowers." He smiled encouragingly.

"Really? Do share." Clarissa replied.

Herondale took a handful of flowers from Clarissa and blew them out towards The Whispering Lake.

"A soul as beautiful as your friends should be remembered in a place beautiful enough for a Queen." He said voice dizzyingly low and affectionate. Clarissa bit back more tears and mirrored Herondale's actions, her heart was growing wings within her chest, and she knew exactly where those wings wanted to go. She looked at Herondale and marvelled at how much he had helped her today. With a small smile in her direction, Herondale offered out his arm for Clarissa to take.

* * *

**Thoughts? Too sappy?**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


	7. A Hall Filled For A Lonely Heart

**The Sisters Sinister.**

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**The Mortal Instruments series and all its characters belong solely to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie). Thank you so much for all of your reviews, favourites and follows! Please review!**

**Thank you so much for 108 followers, I never imagined this story would be received so well by y'all!**

**It snowed today! I was like, "Shut the front door!" and I spent all of my last lesson in school running around in the snow with my friend because we had a free (although technically we were supposed to be doing work, but shh)**

**Also, it's my birthday in a week and a bit and I'm turning sixteen, like, hella soon-yikes. I kinda don't want it to happen, I know, I'm weird as an aubergine.**

**I'm so sorry I've been so inactive lately, but my stupid ass school decided to get me to do a buttload of stuff and I just didn't have the time to write. **

**I know, I suck ass and my excuses suck ass, too. But hey, I'm back now, and hopefully I'll last a little longer this time!**

* * *

_**A Hall Filled for a Lonely Heart.**_

* * *

Clarissa was escorted to her bedchambers almost immediately. There is so little time till your wedding and so much to do! The Sisters cried as they dragged her away from Herondale and up the elegant flight of stairs that led to the Domestic Floor. Clarissa looked back in time to witness first-hand the shadow that passed over Herondale's handsome face. He glared after her stonily before turning abruptly and escaping the clutches of the remaining Sisters. Clarissa begged to be told what was going on in vain, for The Sisters didn't hear her, or didn't think her question important enough to be answered.

* * *

The Sisters rushed around her bedchambers; grabbing dresses and shoes and fitting them into three large trunks. They worked silently but there was an agitated, excited buzz to them. None of them could keep the smiles from their faces. One of The Sisters sat Clarissa down in an upholstered chair and began working at her hair, pulling it loose from its elegant bun and muttering "Hair of The Devil." under her breath as she split it into two halves and braided a crown around her temples. The half that wasn't braided was let loose around her shoulders and was threaded with something that looked like spun gold.

Clarissa remained silent, knowing her questions would be ignored, even as The Sister that had prettied her hair left her bedchambers only to return with a folded package in her hands.

"Mother sent these for you." She said. Clarissa carefully unfolded the delicate white wrapping paper and lifted the garments inside. It took everything in her power not to cry or recoil in horror. In her hands she held a garment so beautiful, so devastatingly beautiful that her hands trembled. It wasn't the garment that had made her want to cry and wail and hide away, it was the connotations of the garment.

The garment was made of a silky white, sheer material. It was so smooth and sheer that it looked like it glowed. Clarissa tore her eyes away from the lingerie dangling between her elegant fingers.

"Put them on." The Sister ordered; her voice lifeless and bored.

Clarissa obliged, she wanted to say 'no', she wanted to say 'no' to it all, but she didn't.

The brassiere connected to a thin corset-like thing. The panties connected to lacy white garters. Clarissa wanted to cry for the shame of it all.

The Sister looked away as Clarissa pulled the delicate undergarments on. Inside the white wrapping tissue was a creamy card addressed to Clarissa. It bore only a line of scrawl; "Please your husband, Clarissa."

The Sister gave Clarissa no time to react. She handed Clarissa an ivory dress and gestured for her to dress herself. The dress was flimsy; it held no weight at all. There was neither supporting corset nor bodice, it hung limply but fashionably off her shoulders. The neckline revealed more than Clarissa was comfortable with. The skirt was long and flowed irresistibly with every step she took. It made her look heavenly, as though the clouds themselves had bowed down to her feet, and had found their place there so perfect that they had no other desire but to stay.

* * *

Kaelie had barely closed the door behind her when Clarissa bombarded her with her as of yet unanswered questions.

"What is going on?" Clarissa wasted no time in asking, "Why am I here?"

"Mother has sent word to us that she wants The Sisters to arrange your wedding." Kaelie supplied.

"My wedding is not for another some days, is it not?" Clarissa asked; her heart suddenly afraid to beat.

"It is three days today, yes." Kaelie said, never meeting her eye. "Your farewell party is tonight. They are sending you away in the morn'" Kaelie said in a hushed tone.

Of course, Clarissa mused, now that Mother is gone they can have away with me as instantly as they wish. Would there be a speedier way than by carriage then it would have been employed, for sure. Clarissa sighed heavily and sat down upon the end of her bed.

"I guess this really is the end of my time here." Clarissa said, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice.

Kaelie sat beside her and took held her hand, they sat like that for some time before Kaelie broke the silence; "You look marvellous."

"Thank you." Clarissa replied bleakly. Kaelie bade her farewell and left Clarissa alone in her bedchambers.

Clarissa supposed she ought to be upset, angry, humiliated. But all she felt was longing. Longing for Herondale, longing for what could never be, longing for the comfort of his presence.

* * *

Clarissa didn't have very long to herself, The Sisters had already begun the merriments and Clarissa was expected at The Great Hall.

She was escorted there by Kaelie, "Has anyone alerted Miss Isabelle of any of this?" Clarissa asked.

"I sent James this morning while you were with Herondale. She may make it, but nothing is certain."

Clarissa nodded, she hadn't expected Miss Isabelle to drop everything just to see her one last time.

The Great Hall was decorated beautifully, everything white; the flowers, the tablecloths, the delicate wall hangings. Clarissa wanted to forget for a moment, that all this was for her, she wanted to imagine that she was just a casual partygoer, perhaps even one of The Sisters. Important, valued, beautiful.

Someone that could capture the attention of Herondale. Someone completely unlike herself.

Clarissa didn't see Herondale at the party once. She tried not to look for him, but whenever someone approached her or brushed past her she immediately found herself wondering if it was Herondale. If he had finally come to say goodbye.

The party was over fast, or maybe Clarissa was just too absorbed in her own thoughts to take any notice of the time. Whatever it was, Clarissa was incredibly grateful. Tomorrow morn' she would be getting prepared to be wed to a man she didn't know, let alone love.

* * *

**I'm sorry this is so short but it's just a filler chapter. I might add more to it at a later date. The next chapter will definitely be longer because I want the story to pick up pace...finally.**

**Please review!**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


	8. Headfirst Into Shared Uncertainty

**The Sisters Sinister.**

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**Hello again!**

**Here is another chapter for my beautiful followers.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, favourited!**

**I hope you're not too disappointed with this one…**

**The Mortal Instruments and all its characters belong to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie)**

**Islandgirl4ever:**** Thank you so much! I had a great birthday :) I'm glad you're enjoying my story so far. XO**

* * *

_**Headfirst Into Shared Uncertainty.**_

* * *

Clarissa looked down at her white gown and sighed. This was it for her, she was leaving The Sisters and Mother for the first time in her life and she doubted she'd ever come back. She wished Miss Isabelle were with her, but she knew by the time Miss Isabelle found out about her early leave she'd be as far from here and Verlac as she could get.

_Verlac._ Just the name itself made her shudder and shake with hatred and fear. Her heart thrashed fearfully in her chest as she thought of what would happen if she was in Young Master Verlac's grasp.

Clarissa was interrupted from her musings by a light knocking at her door; she called out a soft "Come in" and waited. Kaelie shuffled in, a sorrowful look on her face. "The carriage is ready for you."

Clarissa nodded, even though she knew she would die before she got on that carriage. "Take my trunks." Clarissa said, gesturing to her chest of clothes and belongings with a simple jerk of her chin. Kaelie nodded and called for the help of her fellow maidservants.

The three of the maidservants carried her things away, to the carriage, Clarissa presumed.

Once again, only Clarissa remained in her bedchambers. There is no way- Clarissa thought- that I am going to let anyone send me to Verlac. There is nothing left to do, I must escape. I have to run away. Clarissa spared no last glance for the room that had been hers through both childhood and adulthood as she crossed the threshold into the candle-lit corridor.

Clarissa didn't know where she would go if she escaped or what she would do, all she knew was that she couldn't stay here and await her fate. She knew enough of escape plans from her books to travel light, which is why she'd let Kaelie take her things. All that remained was the letters and the piece of jewellery that Julia had left for her which Clarissa tucked into the folds of her skirt.

* * *

The servant's quarters had its own door that opened out into The Royal Gardens, Clarissa had spent enough of her childhood with Julia to know this. This was where Clarissa was headed now; she crept around in the darkness, praying she wouldn't be caught. When she finally reached the servant's quarters she wasted no time in finding the back door. Her hand trembled as she reached out to turn the scuffed brass doorknob.

Suddenly Clarissa felt a strong, warm hand on her forearm. She sucked in a deep, fearful breath and closed her eyes, her grip on the brass doorknob going lax. The hand trailed a path up down her arm and stopped atop her shoulder. With some force, Clarissa was pulled into the chest of her captor. Her captor's free hand flattened itself against her stomach and slid across it until it was gripping her hip. Clarissa sensed the person behind her dip their head, warm breath fanned across her neck.

"You gave me a little scare when I couldn't find you at your bedchambers, Clarissa. But did you really think no one would find you?" A deep, familiar voice spoke at her ear. Clarissa's eyes sprung open wide and she finally found the strength to try and pull away, however, the arms around her were vise-like in their grip.

"What are you doing here, Herondale?" Clarissa asked quietly.

"I'm here to take you away." Herondale answered; his rich, velvety tone nearly eliciting a shiver from her.

"Of all people, you were the last I'd ever suspect to betray me. To betray my trust." Clarissa said, voice laced with disappointment, hurt and anger. "Tell me," Clarissa continued- "Were you always going to help Mother force me to marry? Or did she convince you to do so after you arrived and made nice with me?"

Finally, Herondale loosened his grip on her. Clarissa turned slowly, not wanting to see the hatred and maliciousness in Herondale's eyes that she had already seen in the eyes of so many others. When Clarissa finally met Herondale's eyes, she didn't see what she was expecting to see. Herondale stood so close that their chests were almost flush, his swirling gold eyes held a question.

"What are you talking about?" Herondale asked.

"Don't act stupid. I know why you're here. How long have you been planning against me? How long have you allied yourself with Mother while I thought you were a good, honest person?" Clarissa asked angrily.

"Clarissa I have no intention of ever letting you marry that boy. Believe me." Herondale's eyes glittered fiercely in the dimness. Clarissa held his glare, until the sound of a door opening nearby pulled her out of her anger.

Herondale reached behind her to open the back door and he pushed himself and Clarissa out of it, into The Royal Gardens.

"What are you doing?" Clarissa hissed under her breath as Herondale tugged her through the gardens. Clarissa dug her heels into the ground and stood still, refusing to follow him. Herondale sighed irritably and turned around to face Clarissa. His gaze swept over her almost hungrily, making Clarissa take a step back, instinctively putting space between them. One side of Herondale's mouth crooked upwards and he took a step forward, reaching out and pulling her back towards him as he did so. His gaze warmed her skin and left her feeling strung out.

"What?" Clarissa demanded.

"You look magnificent in that dress." Herondale replied, still smirking.

"Where are you taking me Herondale?" Clarissa ignored his praise outwardly but inside she had melted like butter.

Herondale ignored her and took another step forward. He fingered a strand of her hair, his eyes never leaving hers. Clarissa swatted his hand away and demanded to be told what was going on.

"I'm helping you Clarissa. Can't you just trust me on this? I cannot stand by and let that witch destroy you and your future."

Clarissa opened her mouth to defend Mother out of habit, but closed it again when she realised that she was no longer a prisoner of Mother's lies. Suddenly, a tumult of cries sounded from inside the building behind them. Herondale tugged at Clarissa's arm sharply.

"They know you've escaped. We must hurry, Clarissa." Clarissa wasn't entirely sure if following Herondale was a good idea, but she didn't have any better ideas, so she let him lead her away.

* * *

Herondale led Clarissa through The Royal Gardens as though he had a map of the grounds memorised. He knew exactly where to tread carefully and where to avoid. Finally, they found their way to Herondale's horse. Herondale helped Clarissa onto the horse and then jumped on behind her with a grunt. His arms and legs formed a cage around her and he sat so close that his chest was flush with her back. Clarissa thought she might well have been sitting in his lap, and with that thought a blush stained her cheeks. Herondale guided the horse with great skill, his handle on the reigns easy and relaxed.

They rode away from the only place Clarissa could consider a home and into the uncertainty of the night. Clarissa looked on everything with fascination. This was the first time she'd ever been this far from home. A sense of sadness and regret mingled with elation and fear kept her silent and withdrawn from Herondale. Clarissa tried to stay upright and away from Herondale but over time, her exhaustion proved to trying to ignore and she reluctantly leaned back into Herondale's solid, warm chest. Herondale said nothing, instead he leaned forward and rested his chin atop the crown of her head and tightened his arms around her. They rode through two sunsets, stopping only briefly at lakes to wash up a little and to feed the horse and themselves. Thankfully Herondale had had the foresight to pack crackers, broth and fruit.

* * *

"We'll stop here for rest." Herondale said, breaking the silence. The dusty blue sky bled into the autumn orange of the sun, dark clouds hovered overhead ominously and the ghost-pale moon was already visible. The silence resumed, broken only by the sound of birds and the rustling of leaves. Herondale helped Clarissa off the steed and made himself busy with the saddle bag, Clarissa took the opportunity to take in her surroundings. They were in the clearing of a dense forest, trees of all heights and widths surrounding them, caging them in. Now that they were no longer riding, Clarissa could faintly pick up the sound of running water.

Clarissa watched with unconcealed curiosity and fascination as Herondale began pitching a large cloth tent. "Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, not wanting to sit back while he did all the work.

Herondale paused momentarily and regarded her silently, "I suppose you can collect some dry branches and twigs. If it's not too much to ask." Clarissa nodded and set about collecting the largest fallen branches she could find. She took her time with her job, losing herself in her thoughts. She hadn't walked this much since they'd run away and she relished in the feeling of using her legs. By the time Clarissa made her way back to the clearing, night had settled and Herodale had finished with the tent. Clarissa spotted him pacing restlessly at the edge of the forest growth. He looked up and relief filled his face when he saw her, he rushed towards her, a scowl marring his manly features.

"Where have you been, Clarissa? You have had me sick with concern." He grabbed the fire-wood from her arms and set them at their feet.

"I lost track of time, I didn't wander too far, you needn't worry about me." Clarissa replied, a frown pinching at her forehead.

Herondale ran an agitated hand over his face and growled, "Don't leave my side again."

* * *

The fire was lit with barely any effort on Herondale's part; it was almost as if he willed the branches to burst aflame. Herondale cut and skinned two hare's that he'd caught while he'd been waiting for Clarissa and Clarissa cooked them over the fire. Once they had eaten, Clarissa took the only remaining bar of lavender soap and washed off at the lake that Herondale had directed her to. They only had one drying tunic between them so they were forced to wash off one after the other, not- Clarissa mused- that I would ever wash off at the same time as Herondale. Just the thought alone made Clarissa want to hide behind her own hair. Clarissa washed off in the frigid water as quickly as she could, taking care to rid her hair and body of dirt without using up the bar of soap. After drying herself off, Clarissa pulled her undergarments and gown back on and made her way back to their make-shift campsite to allow the heat of the fire to dry her damp hair.

Clarissa handed the drying tunic and the bar of soap to Herondale wordlessly, not a single word passing between them as he left to wash off.

* * *

The heat of the fire and the exhaustion of their trip were beginning to lull Clarissa into a deep sleep when Herondale finally emerged from the trees, drying tunic in one hand and bar of soap carefully wrapped in leaves in the other. His usually soft, golden curls were damp and darkened with water. Clarissa stifled a gasp of shock as it dawned on her that his chest was bare. Small droplets of water formed tantalizing rivulets down his defined, broad chest. He had the chest of a warrior, all sharp lines and tight muscles. His inked arms were also on display, and Clarissa didn't know which part of him she liked best. The gold arm bands coiled around his upper arms, gripping his muscles.

Herondale sat beside Clarissa looked down at her, the light of the fire creating s mesmerising tale of shadows and lights on his cheekbones. Clarissa had to consciously stop herself from looking at his full lips. Herondale reached up and toyed with the drying, curling ends of her auburn her, "You must get some rest. We will set out again tomorrow." His voice was indulgently low and Clarissa nearly had to clamp her eyes shut. His gentle hand came to rest beneath her jaw line "You sleep in the tent. I've got rugs and animal skin for me out here." Clarissa was about to protest but Herondale silenced her with a look of determination. She nodded and Herondale's features relaxed, "Good girl." He murmured.

Herondale had laid out a thick animal skin rug for her to lay on and two others for her to cover herself with. Clarissa peeled off her gown and settled in, the only light available to her emanating from an oil fuelled lamp.

* * *

**Please review, feel free to drop suggestions or complaints or whatever.**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


	9. The Man She Hardly Knew

**The Sisters Sinister.**

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**I apologise for the delay, I am so so sorry for keeping you waiting :(**

**I can't promise to update more regularly, I'm afraid.**

**_The Man She Hardly Knew._**

* * *

Clarissa awoke to the sound of rain. It pitter-pattered against the material of the tent. She sighed deeply and allowed the haziness of sleep to wrap her in its warm, welcoming arms. She was just about to let her heavy lids fall shut when she remembered that Herondale was still outside. She shot up; the furs Herondale had given her to keep her warm pooled around the tops of her thighs. The lantern was still lit, though its golden light had diminished since it had first been lit. Clarissa heard a grunt as the rain fell harder, turning from that soothing pitter-patter to an overwhelming gush of water. Clarissa saw a shadow move outside the tent and heard a muttered expletive. "Herondale?" she asked tentatively.

She was met with silence. Suddenly, the opening of the tent flew open and Herondale flung himself into the shelter and warmth of the tent. He crawled inside and sat next to her and stared back at the now firmly closed opening of the tent. The light of the lantern flickered enticingly across his jaw line, illuminating his eyes and hair, creating beautiful shadows beneath his lashes and cheekbones. Clarissa studied his perfect face; she watched the rain water trickle down the curling ends of his hair and onto the skin of his neck and then his sculpted chest and arms. He was shirtless, wearing just a blanket around his narrow hips. His chest rose and fell- shuddering with every breath he took, as if though he was expelling the cold out of him. He finally looked at her, and Clarissa tore her gaze from the delicate but harsh black lines of his tattoo.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Herondale asked softly, almost as though he was afraid that by raising his voice above a whisper he'd be shaking all traces of sleep from her. His gaze collided with her own, his unyielding and penetrating, hers caught by the strength in his.

"No, the rain woke me." Clarissa replied just as softly. Herondale nodded and was about to say something else when his gazed dropped from her eyes and travelled across her body. His jaw dropped a little, as if in shock and his gaze returned to her face, and then back to her body. Clarissa looked down and realised what had shocked him. Her cheeks burned and she wrapped the fur around herself tightly. Oh gods, how could she have been so careless? Clarissa looked over at the folded pile that was her dress, wishing she'd worn it to sleep instead of stripping down to her indecent undergarments.

Herondale cleared his throat, and Clarissa looked up at him, cheeks still burning. Herondale smirked arrogantly and reached out to touch her cheek, his cold hand calming the heat.

"Blushing again, Clarissa? How long will you keep this up?" Herondale's intense, gold gaze fell to her lips. A warm fluttering began in her stomach. Clarissa pulled away from his touch and looked away, feeling confused and embarrassed, but mostly ashamed at the feelings that this man that she hardly knew was pulling from her.

"We should get to sleep. Goodnight Herondale." Clarissa said quietly, laying down into the furs. She turned away from Herondale and willed herself to sleep. It was some time before Herondale finally lay down and whispered "Goodnight Clarissa."

* * *

Clarissa woke the next morn' encased in heat. She turned over so that she lay flat on her back. The comfort of her sleep had not fully left her yet so she didn't notice Herondale's arms around her right away, instead she burrowed further into the source of warmth, not registering the feel of skin against her own. When she finally opened her eyes again, Herondale's intense golden eyes loomed over her. His arms were wrapped around her waist and he'd managed to slip under her animal furs, abandoning his own furs.

"I was beginning to think you'd never wake up." Herondale said; his voice low and husky from sleep.

Clarissa shot up, careful to take the covers along with her, covering her lacy undergarments and almost naked form from him. "How long have you been awake?" Clarissa asked nervously. How long had she lain curled up with him, this man she hardly knew?

"Long enough to know you purr in your sleep, and to know you enjoy being held." Herondale smirked.

Clarissa narrowed her eyes at him, "That was a wicked thing to do, you had your own furs." She said with decided annoyance.

"You call it wicked but I on the other hand think it was a rather valiant and heroic deed, keeping you warm on a cold night." Herondale grinned at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. "If you'd like perhaps I could show you the true depth of my wicked nature."

Clarissa turned away to hide her blush, "No, I would not like, your boastfulness."

"Your loss" Herondale said with a shrug.

* * *

The unlikely pair packed up their makeshift tent and furs and continued on their journey. The stop had been entirely too long, and Clarissa could sense Herondale's urgency to get away from where they'd spent the night as fast as possible. The sun was high in the sky as they rode on through the puddles of rainwater that dominated an otherwise flat and easy terrain. Clarissa sat in front of Herondale, his broad muscular chest against her slender back. She had tried in vain to keep her distance; a plan which was thwarted when Herondale made a dissatisfied noise and pulled her flat against him. She said nothing and was glad he couldn't see the colour in her cheeks. Sometime during their journey, as the sun began to dip below the trees and a faint pink rose from the horizon, Herondale picked up the pace- almost as though he were trying to outride some imaginary pursuer. Clarissa noticed he had tensed behind her, his grip on the reigns tightened imperceptibly and the cords in his neck strained against his skin. "We are being chased" Herondale said after a moment of tense silence.

"Chased? How can you possibly tell?" Clarissa strained her ears but could pick up no sound but the whisper of the wind among the trees and the incessant chorus of crickets.

Herondale chuckled low under his breath, a sound that travelled through Clarissa's spine, leaving no vertebrae untouched "Four horsemen to our one? It's good to know they don't underestimate me."

Clarissa wondered not for the first time just who this mysterious man was and what his plans for her were. It crossed her mind that perhaps she was in even greater danger now than she had been when she was to face Master Verlac again, and once imagined this thought could not be unimagined. She thought of how little she really knew of Herondale, of how little she knew of anyone on this earth and she felt lonelier than ever before.

Herondale wrapped an arm around Clarissa's stomach, his thumb rested just below her breast. Without realising, Clarissa had moved further away from Herondale. He pulled her back and his warm breath stirred her hair, "What are you thinking of, Clarissa?" his low voice rumbled and she felt his every intake of breath against her back.

"Nothing of consequence" Clarissa replied, hiding her sudden fear of the man behind her flawlessly. Herondale rested his chin against the point where her shoulder met her neck and nuzzled her hair, which he proceeded to inhale deeply.

Clarissa stiffened, "What are you doing?" she asked; her voice stronger than her knees and her state of mind.

Whatever answer he gave was too low to be heard he moved away from her neck and focused on riding again. "Expect an attack soon, Clarissa." He said gravely. A shiver of fear and anticipation danced through Clarissa's spine.

* * *

**This is far too short for my liking, but i never have time to just sit down and write these days.**

**Please review,**

_**Yours Faithfully,**_

_**ClaryFrayMockingjay.**_

_**X**_


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